It’s hard work, being anorexic. There are so many numbers to keep track of, and constant internal arguing and bargaining, restricting, worrying about people, feeling dizzy, tired, frozen, and disconnected. But it’s easy to listen to MV. She is very enticing, and always there, and I never have to worry that she gets tired of me. Everything is safe, and organized and powerful- watch me do 3 hours of yoga on nothing more than a banana, I am awesome because I am in control and we are safe.

Recovery is hard work too. Every. Single. Day. I have to be stronger than MV. I have to eat, stay on the schedule, make decisions for myself (without consulting MV). I have to resist compulsions, experience things that are uncomfortable, accept fluctuations in weight, and practice fat yoga. It works though. Eventually. I think better, and connect with the people around me. My practice is stronger, and I laugh more.

It’s nice… Until everything becomes fat and chaotic. Then I need MV to restore order. I need to lose weight, and remember that food is for fueling NOT emotional dependence. It’s not a reward for doing something good, or consolation after a bad day, it’s not an appropriate resolution for boredom, and should never be done in excesses just for entertainment.

It’s scary when I find myself starting to think that way. It’s too out of control and not safe. Enjoyment is irrelevant.

Food makes yoga. That’s it.

Suffice it to say, I had fat and crappy yoga tonight. My left hip still hurts from the weekend, then I went to pull my elbows back in head to floor and my right hip popped! Everything felt red and tingly right after. I did all four sets of triangle, but they were horrrrible, and hurt so much, I cried! It’s a good thing everyone is dripping from everywhere by that point, so no one could tell!

Also, that new guy, the one I called “interesting” a few weeks ago? Yeah. He’s not. He’s just a creepy, obnoxious old man who screws up the entire dynamic in the room. The radius around his mat gets bigger daily. Everything about his practice is arrogant and self serving. Now, there’s nothing wrong with warming up before class. I do it. The lizards do it. The teachers and competitors do it. Bend, wallwalk, jump, spin, fart, whatever gets you pumped for class- go for it! But, it’s personal. Warm up for yourself, WITH yourself. Don’t be loud and dramatic just so people will look at you. Don’t stare, pet, or make gross faces at your classmates. It’s all very un-zen.

This yoga. It’s extremely personal. It works when you practice for yourself, while loving every person in the room.

This guy practices for everyone else, like a clown, while loving only himself. It’s challenging and confusing.

I need to work on staying within my own yoga island (mat), and remembering to “Let nothing steal my peace.” I think it’s interesting that the teacher on Friday said that during class, then Leigh chose THIS! as her Weekend Retro Throwback!

Clearly, The Universe is trying to pound this message into my thick skull right now.

Pumpkin/Parsnip oatmeal for breakfast!!! Holy cow! This was freakingggg amazinggggg!!!! Plus, everything was puréed (no fruit chunks), so, of course, I looooovvvved the texture. Musli and almond milk for snack. My internal dialogue is current discussing dinner. I’m not sure which side is winning yet.

I got adjusted today.
Dr. J. Said “you’re lookin’ kinda ribby today, how long have you been out for.”
It’s interesting. I thought this week was pretty ok, but my c2 was out. Last week, it stayed but I was more or less terrorized the entire week. This week only a few ribs were out (probably because I only practiced once), last week I practiced tons and my ribs were all kinds of jacked up by Friday… I’m starting to think they are just as important as the c2 in this equation.

When I got back to work, I gave my supervisor a PTO request for next weeks adjustment, because she won’t let me work around any appointments, and even though this one is every Friday, she can’t give me an hour for lunch every week. She has told me it’s “not fair” to keep asking for schedule changes. She told me “everyone has stuff going on. Just deal with it and work your schedule.” She said “what are you going to do when you run out of personal time?”

It’s always like this. Um, I work 9-5… Most of the people I am taking time off to see, also work 9-5. What would she like me to do???

Today, after 20 minutes of going round and round in circles. I decided I was sick of it. I told her, I absolutely depend on these appointments to be able to function, and she eventually (reluctantly) said to stop using personal time for Dr. J. She’d just figure something out. But the whole thing is exasperating and humiliating and we go through the same thing every single time. I’m working my ass off trying to deal with all this crap, it’s hard enough already. I shouldn’t have to be afraid to ask for time that I need to be able to care for myself. I shouldn’t have to worry about what will happen when I run out of hours. It’s not like I’m asking for beach days or anything.

So, I got down and dirty with the Google, and our little friend, the Americans with Disabilities Act… Wouldn’t you know, eating disorders are totally protected here, not maybe, not, well if you bend the phrasing this way it could work. Nope, eating disorders are clearly and directly protected.

Our office is open 5a-1a, I am the only person in my department, I don’t interface with our clients, and what I do is not critical to the main workflow. I mean, like if my stuff doesn’t get done, it will eventually start messing other things up. But productivity doesn’t come to a screeching halt when I’m not there. Plus, I work for a big-ass national corporation… Coming in 30 minutes early in order to add 30 minutes to my lunch, or working 11-7 instead of 9-5 occasionally is not going to create any kind of “undue hardship” for the company.

Technically, if I really wanted to push it, my indoor snow gear would also be a reasonable request, as it has no financial impact on the company, and I need the extra warmth.

So.

I e-mailed the corporate HR hotline.

Self advocacy, adding a little more depth as I continue bending over backwards to save my own life.

I had another solid class tonight. Nothing stellar, and still felt like a marshmallow. It was familiar- several months regressed, but recognizable nonetheless. I can look at today’s practice and say “ok. I know what this is. I know that with consistency and proper effort, I can build back to regularly occurring smiley, giggly yoga. I’m sore, but not in pain. I learned a lot about the difference with my hips the past two months. What was going on wasn’t just sore, it was malfunction, and by trying to push forward I actually ended up impeding the progression of my yoga. One of my friends is doing the same exact thing now. It is frustrating to watch. She is miserable in class. She is in pain. She is trying EVERYTHING she can think of to deal with the pain… Instead of addressing the actual problem. I gave her Dr. J’s card. I wish she’d use it.

I noticed tonight that I stop, and/or wince at the places I had been hitting painful resistance in my hips and shoulders. It’s mental. I have no pain, and appear to have maintained my flexibility. I have plenty of room to keep going… But I stop where the pain was. Just one of those quirky hot room issues to work through, I guess.

Yoga isn’t the only place I have suddenly located familiar territory. Know how I’ve said I got stuck somewhere around 8-12ish? I came home from yoga tonight and was getting ready to do my usual turbo shower, jammies, straight to bed… Until it dawned on me. I have my own bathroom for the first time in my adult life. I have my own bedroom for the first time in my adult life. I am the only keeper of my own time.

I have spent years rushing to conserve water, maximize efficiency and take up as little space as possible. I do what I have to do then focus all of my energy on keeping out of the way and avoiding conflict.

I don’t have to rush, or hide in my bed here. I don’t have anyone to fight with. And no one here will make fun of anything I do (Avery can’t talk). I have the opportunity to catch up and learn how to be girly now.

Tonight I took a bath with some purple foamy stuff. I took the time to brush my hair. I tried some firming face mask (for the first time ever), and I painted my toenails sparkley and pink. These are all things that, I assume, are fairly unexceptional by the late twenties. I’m also pretty sure most of my friends are opting for professional dark reds or neutrals when it comes to nail painting… But I’m 8. I’m catching up. I wear closed toe shoes to work. No one has to know how far behind I really am.

Last night was HORRIBLE! Well, my yoga was good, which was cool, but I was still all hung up on my computer calling me fat, so all things disordered were at ultra roar volume.

Thank goodness Mother Nature was looking out for me when she planted my family tree. SC stuck with me like a trooper, and was quite insightful too. I learned a lot. You see, my cousin is gorgeous

She’s confident and assertive and cool and about 7 million things that I’m not. Plus, she’s about the same height as me… Which is extremely unusual, and uncomfortable for me. Depending on how much time I’ve spent on the inversion table I measure 60-62 inches tall. I felt like a big awkward ogre around her, while she buzzed all around like a pretty little honey bee.

She said last night, that I looked fragile and she’d been afraid to hug me too hard.

It’s confusing.

I didn’t worry too much about being completely nuts last night. I knew I’d be seeing Dr. J first thing this morning to get my hips and brain put back where they belong.

The whole freak out last night started over soda… Which obviously carried over into this morning.

I wanted soda, but my computer called me fat.

I KNEW that this was ridiculous– I don’t even LIKE soda. I KNEW that human logic does not take two completely random things “I want soda now” and “my computer called me fat on Tuesday.” Make them completely dependent on each other, then obsess over the single thought for H O U R S. The whole thing was obviously completely anorexia derived.

So, I decided I would outsmart the MV. I’d go see Dr. J FIRST, then enjoy a soda in silence.

Only, it didn’t happen like that. Dr. J doesn’t just silence the thoughts. She obliterates all things disordered. Unlike the night I wanted soup but Dr. Phil said no, where wanting soup was clearly me and Dr. Phil was definitively MV, both wanting soda and the argument against it were BOTH MV!!

So, after I got adjusted,

I ended up with this for lunch, there is real cheese in there, (not Plastic/American cheese), and I also had some Green Machine and a few nuts with it.

Guess what???

My yoga tonight, was off the freaking hook!!!! I suddenly remember why I LOVE yoga!!!!!! I laughed, had fun, worked hard, did everything, gave high 5’s to my friends, cheered for the first timers and made faces at anyone who was taking things too seriously. It was perfect. I was in the Yoga Zone, and it ROCKED!!!!

Lately, I’ve been bad about eating crap foods, because it takes less bites, less fighting, less internal war to to get the job done from a strictly mathematical perspective. This “trick” has left me feeling fat, tired, crabby and sluggish, with uninspired and miserable yoga.

Tonight, I learned that just eating enough, isn’t enough.

I need GOOD fuel to have good yoga!!!!

I’m in love with the way I feel tonight, and inspired to keep trying, so I can feel like this EVERYDAY, and it all just becomes natural with no more fighting, and no more MV!!!

This picture was taken while breaking down a HUGE vendor event at a little park in a very metro, downtown city. There are busy roads and a major highway surrounding us. I down-stayed Avery and she didn’t move once the entire time we were packing up. It’s nice having a well behaved dog. But I am so thankful that we had her trained specifically FOR me. At the time, we couldn’t really come up with any pressing reasons to NEED a hearing dog, training together is fun, it’s a strong and positive way to bond with a new pet, and it seemed like the kind of thing that wouldn’t hurt to have in the back pocket. All of the time, effort and small fortune we put into the project 2.5 years ago, made it possible for Avery to live with me anywhere. Our new home has a 20lb weight limit and bully ban, from which she is exempt. It is also illegal to be charged pet fees/deposits for her. It’s true, caring for both of us by myself feels huge and overwhelming, but having her with me will allow me to me safe and independent. I need her… We need each other.

I am having to leave behind the rest of my furry family

Sam, Chip, and Abby Grace will be staying behind with my roommates, who have sworn to get rid if them as soon as I am gone.

Sam was my first rescue, my first bottle baby, my first clicker trainee, he opened his eyes in my hand and taught me pretty much everything NOT to do with a bottle baby. I have literally hand raised thousands of kittens since him and in retrospect, it’s amazing I didn’t kill him. Sam is also a certified therapy cat, he rides in a stroller, wearing clothes and sunglasses to visit schools and nursing homes- the picture of him was actually taken during a therapy visit. He knows commands like a dog. He can sit, wait (stay), target, high 5, spin, give kisses, step up, step down and come.

Chippy is my whole heart. He caught a virus as a young kitten that left his nasal passages deformed. He has endless projectile blood boogers, needs his nose picked multiple times daily, and gets nebulized in a special box designed for him when needed. 3 years ago, at 14 months old he was already immune to EVERY antibiotic option and struggling so hard to breathe, we decided the kindest thing to do was end his suffering. I had to take him alone and by the time I walked into the vet’s office I was hysterical we were both drenched in tears and snot. Is was the sweetest cat on the planet and only a year old, he couldn’t possibly be through sharing his gifts with the universe. Fortunately, our vet is a treasure. She admitted that medically, we had run out of options, but drugs and western medicine are only half of the picture. She asked how creative I was willing to get, if we held off euthanizing him that day. In that moment, losing him seemed inevitable, but I agreed, just to squeeze out a few more days together. We were referred to a human chiropractor who works on animals after hours for $10 a visit. An appointment was set for two days later. The morning we left for his adjustment he couldn’t even stand up and was breathing heavily through his mouth. His tiny body was hot and limp in my lap as I drove. I figured we would be stopping at the vet’s to say good by for real this time after the chiropractor. Chippy crawled right into the doctor’s lap and purred the whole time she was working in him. After a few minutes, she handed him back to me so she could work from a different angle. I could feel every excruciating breath from his raspy little lungs against my hands, and still, he purred. As the doctor manipulated his neck a strong POP reverberated through his body, and then everything went completely still and silent against my skin. I immediately burst into tears. “Hey,” she said quietly and tapped my shoulder, “it’s ok, look, he’s breathing, you however, are not.” I wiped my eyes and checked, sure enough, my little cat was laying in my lap, eyes blissfully closed, breathing quietly through his nose. Tentatively, afraid to disturb him or ruin that magical moment, I drew my fingers along his side. In silence we sat and watched my fingers ride the waves of each glorious breath. Chippy ran and played for hours with the other kittens that night. He’s still got boogers, but he’s got a long full life ahead of him too.

Abby Grace was just a few hours old when a friend called to say her husband had found some kittens in a hole while he was mowing. Abby and her brother came within INCHES of being mulched. He noticed them just in time. Abbs has a brain problem. Her head shakes, she flops over on her side while standing, and struggled to learn to walk. I got fired from a stupid job right about the time her brother was learning to climb the back of the couch. I felt totally defeated and miserable, sitting home alone all day. I spent lots of time watching the cats play (we didn’t have dogs back then). Everyday, little Abby Grace would flop her way over to the couch and try to climb like the other kittens. At first, I’d try to help and lift her to the top, but she’d get angry, shake her head and make Donald Duck sounds at me. So I left her a line. Slowly, painstakingly, she progressed up the cough, gaining mere millimeters each day. She never ever stopped trying though. Her determination was so motivating and inspiring for me during that extremely dark phase of my life. By the time Abby was getting near the top, I was starting a new job. We were both pretty proud of ourselves.

These cats own so much of my heart.

As rescuers, we can be a pretty hateful and condescending crowd. We are quick to put ourselves on a pedestal and damn anyone giving up a pet. We declare our dogs children and swear to live under a toadstool with our cat before living in an apartment without it. The very community I’ve devoted the greater part of my adult life to will be waiting with pitchforks to skewer than burn me at the stakes when they find out what I’ve done.

I could probably come up with the monthly fees, and ask my mom to help with the deposits. I could probably even hide them illegally. I could put on a face-saving show for the rescue world and promote myself like a one-person-critter-lovin-just-call-me-Wonder-Woman special feature. And many many rescuers choose that route. Gabriel is the product of one of those people, his demons have not been small, or easily vanquished. I’d rather be true to myself, and these cats that I so deeply love.

I honestly don’t feel that I could adequately care for them at this time. So I am making the most responsible choice possible, and giving up a part of my heart, to save my soul. The stairs to the new apartment are flooded with my tears, fore I know, every item moved towards my new life is taking me away from these precious kitties.

I am heartbroken, crushed, devastated.

I have to do this for myself, and for the lives I will be able to save when I am better and stronger and safe, myself.

I am so excited about, well, everything!!!! I prickle with awareness and hereness and gratefulness. I want to try all the food. I want to touch all the things. I want to watch movies and talk to people. I laugh so much.

It’s not all perfect, of course.

I was eating this burrito at my desk, and it fell apart. No big deal, right? I don’t have an eating disorder. I get my c2 adjusted. I can totally deal with spilled burrito. It stayed on my desk, and I kept working.

When I looked down… I realized I had sorted and lined up my burrito guts instead of eating them… Whoops.

I also think things likehmmm. I’d really like to make some macaroni and cheese, then stir peanut butter in. Or maybe have a pb and cheese sandwich.
But I’m not really sure if that’s ok. I’ve never seen anyone else do it.

Today, the girl from work invited me to the gym with her. I will skip yoga for that! 🙂 I am in love with connecting, and everyone around me. I’m not very good at it though. I think I got a little bit stuck somewhere around 8 – 12ish as disordered nonsense took control of me. I feel like I have a lot of catching up to do, and I’m counting on The Universe to guide me towards people who will be patient and understanding while I figure it out.

Today, I think I got pretty close to normal with the food. I had my almonds, a green smoothie with strawberry, banana, spinach, avocado, almond milk, protein powder and peanut butter. I had my citrus. Some coffee creamer- with coffee in it, 2 packets of emergen-C, a burrito and some raisins.

I got adjusted again today. I brought a picture of Andrea’s perfect standing bow

And used it to point out the problems with mine. She totally got it and said she has already working on the things that trip me up!!! I also learned that my “hips” don’t hurt. The pain that I have, is from my SI joint- which is rotated!

My yoga was pretty good too! Standing series kicked ass! It was almost my normal deal, my friends were there and I was smily the whole time. My hipSI joint popped LOUD and painfully during wind removing and the floor series was better than it’s been, but less fun than the earlier part of class had been. I’ve been doing a lot of reading tonight, and I think I’m going to put myself on sit-up restriction for a while. They are not conducive to SI healing, and I always feel like the pain builds with each one until the end of class is nearly unbearable. Near the end of class tonight I caught my reflection in the mirror, my eyes were bright red and full of tears. I was hurting!

I am so thrilled to see where this newest adjustment (har har) guides my journey. I have a sense that something epic is about to occur.